


Healing Pains

by Yamx



Series: Deal-Series [20]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she wanted to do was go to a bleeding potato museum. She shouldn't have to die for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dshael](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dshael).



> Written for Dshael, who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dshael, who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_. Many thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

"I still can't believe they have a potato museum!" Rose is looking at a carved landscape in the typical yellow-whitish color.

Jack laughs. "Potatoes are a rare delicacy here, Rose. The closest planet that can grow them is three parsecs away."

Rose grins. "If they are that hard to come by, that's all the more reason to eat the ones you can get."

"Oh, they do. There's an exhibition in the west wing — potato bread, potato chocolate, potato beer—"

"Don't they just eat them? Y'know — boiled, chipped, maybe with fish..."

"Well, yeah, but when something's that rare and costly, people always try to find special things to do with it." He hooks his arm through hers. "It was the same where I grew up, you know?"

Rose turns to him, attentive. Jack rarely talks about his childhood. She'll take anything she can get. "No spuds?"

He grins. "No spuds. The planet was too arid. They were imported sometimes, but my family wasn't... They were too expensive for us. First time I had them, I was already a Time Cadet."

Rose puts her head on his shoulder. "Know what you mean. All kinds of stuff Mum couldn't afford for us when I was growing up. First time I had asparagus, I was already traveling with the Doctor."

"Gross, huh?"

She laughs and nods. "Yeah. But now I know that firsthand." She curls her tongue around her teeth. "Anyway, this museum's much more interesting than the last one. 'And here we have some coins. And here some almost identical coins, except greener. Oh, and look, some even greener coins with little circles on them!'"

A guard frowns at them disapprovingly; they giggle.

"Money's just very important in their culture, Rose." Jack sounds too amused for it to be an admonishment.

"Well, where isn't it?"

"Not just economically. They actually consider money part of their heritage, a sign of sophistication. Both the value and the physical tokens."

"Sometimes you sound just like your boyfriend." Jack preens, and Rose sticks her tongue out at him. "Like the spuds better, that's all."

He grins and glances at his wristcomp. He downloaded a map of the museum at the entrance. "Wanna take a look at the gallery of famous presidents upstairs?"

"How much longer is the Doctor going to be?"

Jack checks his wristcomp again. "At least two hours, if he just listens to the lectures. If he goes to the meet-and-greet afterwards..." He shrugs.

Rose cocks her head. "Do you mind missing it? I know you like temporal physics. I really didn't need a babysitter..."

"Shhhh!" Jack gestures frantically. "Don't say that out loud or someone might make me go!" He drops his voice conspiratorially. "What the Doctor's listening to right now is way above my head, and ages ahead of my time. I'd understand just enough to feel like an imbecile."

Rose giggles. "Let's go and have a look at the other potatoheads then, eh?"

Jack smiles and opens his mouth to reply.

There's an unearthly shrieking sound. A flash of light so bright it comes right through the walls. The room suddenly feels unbearably hot. She sees Jack's hand reaching for her, and then the floor rushes towards her.

*****

The Doctor's sitting in the first row, watching the projection with amusement. The first three presentations, held by guest lectures from different systems, were quite impressive — well, for non-Time Lords in this era at any rate — and he even gave them a few pointers afterwards. But this bloke — a chubby violet local, full of self-importance like most G'ndulaks — doesn't seem to have the first clue what he's talking about.

He wishes Jack was here to see this. He's a smart lad, and has good instincts for temporal matters. He'd laugh this guy right out the door.

But he understands why the humans are happier doing the tourist thing. And he wouldn't have wanted Rose wandering about by herself anyway.

Not that that's not ridiculously overprotective of him. On Itawamba, Rose got him and Jack out of prison all by herself, and yet he'd rather not have her wander around a simple museum district in a civilized city like Duladi unescorted. But it's the very things that happened on Itawamba that mean he can't help himself. His companions are his to protect. If he's honest, he'd rather be with them right now. But he knows he can't keep acting like they're joined at the hip or he'll drive them all crazy.

If the G'ndulak's research was just marginally less shallow, maybe it'd distract him better. And the way the bloke's convinced his theories are naturally superior to those of the alien researchers — who were apparently invited to the conference merely for novelty value — is so damn irritating. The Doctor squirms in his chair. He suddenly has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something's wrong, he just knows it. He should sneak out and check on Jack and Rose.

But no. He's being an idiot. They're adults, they can take care of themselves. They're all right. Of course they—

There's a terrible screech, a flash, and half the windows in the lecture hall shatter. He's on his feet and heading towards the door before the lecturer has even turned on the lights. He's just reaching for the doorknob when he hears words that turn his hearts to ice. One of the G'ndulaks looking out of a window screams "Gauka have mercy, the museum district's gone!"

As soon as he's out of the building, he can see it's true. The museum district, built on the mountain pass that's the only entrance to Duladi, is turned into a field of rubble, dust, and smoke. Was it a terrorist attack trying to isolate the city? He doesn't know, and he finds he doesn't care.

His heartbeats are deafening in his ears as he runs towards the pass. If Jack and Rose were in the middle of this... He tries to remember the relative positions of the museums. Which ones did they say they'd go to? Is there any chance they'd left already, maybe visited a restaurant or shopping mall? But there are bistros all over the museum district, and little shops at every exit.

Security forces are closing off the area. He's about to barrel right through them when several burly policemen step in his way. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't—"

He doesn’t listen, he just tries to dodge, but they grab his shoulders and block him with their bodies. "Let me go! My—" _my lover and our best friend_ "— my family's in there!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's nothing you can do."

"Yes, there bloody well is! I can get them out!" He can. He has to. He can do anything. "Let me through."

He feels a small hand on his arm and whirls around. "What do you want?"

A tiny girl flinches at the anger in his voice. Her purple cheeks pale to lavender.

He takes a deep breath and crouches down. With an effort, he controls his voice to sound low and calm. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. What do you need?"

She chews on her shiny black pigtail. "Your fam'ly — are they aliens like you? A boy an' a girl?"

Well, they certainly look enough like him that he wouldn't expect this child to know the difference. He nods, a lump in his throat. "Have you seen them?"

She nods.

At least they're not buried under the rubble. He swallows. "Are they all right?"

"The boy was carrying the girl. She looked hurt."

 _Hell and damnation._ The Doctor bites his tongue to keep from swearing out loud. "Do you know where they went?"

She points behind her. "In an ammulance."

He forces himself to smile at her — it's shaky, but she smiles back anyway. "Thank you." He turns back to the police. "Where would the ambulance have taken them?"

"Duladi Central." The officer points westward. "See the tall building with the green m—"

The Doctor starts running before the policeman finishes.

*****

Jack paces up and down the corridor in front of Rose's bed, throwing anxious glances at her still form every few seconds. Where the fuck is the Doctor? He's supposed to be here by now, all rage and gruffness and worry.

He tries to focus on the info-screen at the corner of the hallway, which is scrolling news about the explosion, the rescue efforts and casualties; but the hot pink text is too bright and the numbers too depressing.

"Oi! Let me through, dammit! Family member!"

With a sigh of relief, Jack hurries to the reception area. "It's okay," he nods at the orderly. "He's her father." What the hell. That lie's worked before.

As soon as the Doctor's past the burly orderlies, he looks Jack up and down, fumbling for the screwdriver and turning it on him. "You all right?"

Jack shrugs. "Cuts and bruises. Nothing serious. But Rose—"

The screwdriver beeps and the Doctor glances at the display and nods curtly. "Take me to her."

He leads the Doctor down the corridor, past long rows of beds, and stops by Rose's. The Time Lord scans her. "She's got radiation poisoning! Alltwin's Rays, it looks like. How the hell—"

"They don't know what caused the explosion yet. I'm guessing one of the 'droll alien artifacts' in the space travel museum was either a bomb or some type of generator."

"Well, why isn't there an IV? She needs to be on medication, this is only going to get worse!" The Doctor looks angry now.

Jack knows this. Knew it even before the medics here told him. He'll be all right, because the Time Agency implanted him with artificial glands that can clean up most of the radiation, and his 51st century cell structure can deal with the rest, but if Rose doesn't get some pharmanucleids into her system soon, more and more cells will start to liquify until her organs are no longer viable.

He looks at the Doctor, his mouth dry. "Tell me you carried money today."

"What?" The Doctor frowns. "Why the—"

"They won't treat her unless we pay up front. I spent all you gave us just to get her into this bed. Please tell me you have more."

"They won't treat her unless—" The outrage in the Doctor's voice makes several other patients glance over.

"Believe me, I argued. Pleaded. Begged. Screamed and stomped my feet. We're aliens, hence neither insured nor covered by social. No cash, no treatment. 'We don't value the lives of off-worlders above those of our own people. Our resources are limited,'" he quotes the medical director, almost choking on the words. He wants to cry. Because he can see in the Doctor's eyes that his lover doesn't have money either. "Maybe if you try... but, honest? They seemed the kind of immovable that won't budge even to the Oncoming Storm."

"Gimme your wrist," the Doctor says. "Screw them, we're taking her home."

If only. Jack holds out the Vortex manipulator. "You'll have to fix it first. Used it to get us out of the danger zone. Two-person jump, no time to fine-tune, in the middle of a radiation explosion..." It's fried. Completely fried. He doesn't think even the sonic screwdriver can fix it. But he's probably wrong. He has to be.

The Doctor's moving the screwdriver back and forth. There's a deep furrow between his eyebrows. Then he curses and slaps Jack's wrist away — only to take his hand and squeeze it a second later. "Teleportation chip's completely burned out. No way to fix it without a new one. The temporal spools are gone, too."

Jack swallows, feeling almost as if he's just been told he will never use his arm again. Time Agency chips are impossible to come by. This is it for his manipulator. What he has now is a scanner, a handy tool for various small tasks, but not the beacon of freedom and independence that he'd come to rely on.

Still, no time to grieve the loss of a toy when Rose's life is at stake. "What now?"

The Doctor looks grim. "Need to get a vehicle to get us back to the TARDIS."

Jack gestures to the info screen. "The pass is closed, and she's on the other side of it."

"Air shuttle, then."

"All currently in use to help find survivors."

The Doctor shrugs. "Steal one."

Jack's eyebrows shoot up. Steal a rescue vehicle during a city-wide crisis?

"We're trying to save a survivor, too." The cold in his eyes gives Jack pause. But it's a moot point, anyway. He shakes his head.

"State of emergency. Everywhere's crawling with police and army. We can't fight our way in with Rose unconscious."

"Fine." The Doctor throws his head, looking around impatiently. "We'll pay them their blood money. Just need to find a cashpoint."

"I tried that. Knew you'd show up eventually, had the same thought. Asked an orderly where the nearest cashpoint is.

"And?"

"Blank stare. Apparently, no one on G'ndula would ever consider banking with a machine. The very thought is 'disgraceful.' It's 'much too important a task not to be handled by a professional.'" Jack snorts in disgust. "Oh, and also? Aliens are not allowed to bank here at all. Only one bank on the whole planet that serves 'different people,' apparently, and it's in the trade port. 300 miles away. So even if you somehow manage to manipulate a bank computer around here into thinking you have an account, they'll know it's fake."

He can practically see the Doctor's thoughts racing back and forth behind his eyes. "What are you carrying that can be sold?"

"Clothes on my back, small blaster, broken Vortex manipulator."

The Doctor shakes his head. "With the attitude towards alien tech here..." He eyes the screwdriver thoughtfully.

"You're the only one who can use it properly. No more than a toy with a few nifty settings to almost anyone else."

"You have a better idea?" the Doctor barks.

Jack takes a step back, startled. "I'm just—"

"Nah, you're right." He puts a hand on Rose's forehead. "She's burning up."

"I'll charm some nurse into giving us some towels and ice free of charge."

"You do that. I'll go and talk to whoever's in charge." The darkness in his eyes makes Jack feel almost sorry for the medical director. Almost.

Except he's standing between Rose and the help she needs, and Jack would gladly strangle the man if he thought it'd do any good.

*****

"But I can pay!" The Doctor's hands slap the desk the medical director is sitting behind, looking distant and distracted. For a medic, he certainly seems quite untouched by suffering. Or maybe just the suffering of aliens, "As soon as I can get to my ship, I can buy this whole damn hospital if need be."

The medical director sneers, and his puce cheeks turn mauve. "So you've said. And so your companion has said. The problem is, I don't know that, do I? It's not as if we can repossess the healing if the pass is reopened and you have nothing to give us. I have to protect our shareholders!"

"But she'll die!"

"There's nothing I can do about it. This hospital is not in the business of giving away resources. Especially not during a crisis." He browses through a file and signs some orders.

"Bollocks. You make your own pharmanucleids here. You won't run out!"

"We invest energy, expertise and raw materials. While those are admittedly plentiful, we still cannot give the resulting medications away if we expect to continue to succeed as an enterprise." He gets up and brushes his hands down his lab coat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have paying patients to attend to."

The Doctor rubs his temples. "All right. Say I were to go to your bank, maybe have a... look at their computer. And say you were going to find a surprising amount in your account all of a sudden. Would you—"

The director coughs sharply. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, on account of your understandable distress." He looks the Doctor up and down with barely-concealed contempt. "But I would advise you not to repeat that question. To anyone." He pulls himself up to his full height, which makes him almost a head taller than the Doctor. "Here on G'ndula, we do not take kindly to bribery. And we take even less kindly to aliens manipulating our banks. While I'm not fool enough to claim that no G'ndulak anywhere would be willing to stoop so low, I'm certain most would call the police at the mere thought."

And if he goes to jail, that's it for Rose. The Doctor nods darkly. "Is there nothing you can do for us?"

The director checks his clipboard. "Well, I see the bed is paid for today. I can extend that till eight a.m. tomorrow."

"And then what? You'll chuck a dying girl out into the street?" The Doctor curls his hands into tight fists and digs in his nails to keep from strangling the bloke.

The director's eyes harden. "If you don't lower your voice, we can 'chuck her out' at midnight. Neither the girl's status nor your lack of funds is the hospital's fault, so kindly stop casting us as the villains in you personal drama."

The Doctor takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "I appreciate the generosity." It's not exactly a growl.

The director opens the door to the hallway and looks at the Doctor expectantly. "I really need to get on with my _paid_ work now."

The Doctor sighs and leaves. There's no way to win this argument. And they can't move Rose until she's stable, so stealing the medication and running isn't an option.

Jack is in the process of wrapping Rose's lower legs in cold, wet towels. He looks up expectantly — and his face falls before the Doctor can even shake his head. "No luck?"

"Goddamned stuck-up plonker. Gave us an extension on the bed till eight tomorrow morning."

"That's it?"

He nods, and strokes Rose's cheek, careful not to dislodge the ice pack. There are some loose hairs on her pillow already. He can barely force his voice past his larynx to say, "We're not going to need it that long."

Jack takes a deep breath. "How long does she have?"

The Doctor scans her with the screwdriver again. "If she doesn't get the medication within five hours, at most, there'll be irreversible damage. About eight hours till it'll be too late to even..." He closes his eyes. He can't say it. She's twenty. All she wanted to do was go to a bleeding potato museum. She shouldn't have to die for it. Especially not from something completely treatable. Why didn't he pocket some money this morning? Why does he never think to? What will he tell her mother?

He realizes that Jack has finished with the towels and is pulling on his jacket. "Where are you going?"

Jack fumbles with the zip, not looking at him. "To earn money."

"Don't be ridiculous. No job they'd let an alien do in this city that'd raise that much money that fast."

Jack looks up, and his eyes are haunted. He looks straight at the Doctor, swallows, and says, "There is one."

The Doctor blinks. Once. Twice. Surely he doesn't mean...

But he does. The Doctor feels like linearity has been pulled out from under him and he's adrift in a maelstrom of disconnected moments.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I know we have a deal. And yes, I'm about to go out and break it. I'm telling you ahead of time." He runs a hand through his hair and looks at the floor, then makes eye contact again. "If this means... If this is it, I understand. It'll break my heart, but I understand if you can't..." Jack strokes a hand along Rose's arm. "But I can't stand here and watch her die. I have to help her. Even if that means I won't have a partner and a home to come back to."

No. This isn't right. There must be another way, goddammit. One that doesn't involve... The Doctor shakes his head. _Think, dammit. Some genius you are._ But every way he looks at it, the facts add up to this one option.

Jack looks at him searchingly. The Doctor tries to say something, anything, but his thoughts are racing too fast. Jack nods sadly and turns around, walking towards the exit. He's almost at the door when the Doctor finally regains control of his tongue.

"Jack! Wait!" He runs to catch up with him.

Jack stops, but doesn't turn around. "I'm going to do this, Doctor. There's nothing you can say."

He steps around to face Jack and gently tips up his chin. "Look at me."

Jack does, and the Doctor holds him by the shoulders. He takes a deep breath. "Jack." Damn, this hurts. "Go..." His voice cracks and he has to swallow and lick his lips. "Go and prostitute yourself." The words feel like razor blades in his throat.

Jack frowns. "What?"

"I order you to go sell your body and get us the money we need to help Rose. _I_ order you." He won't let Jack go out there thinking he has nothing to return to. He's the one who's failed to come up with a better plan. If Jack has to do this, it'll be on the Doctor's orders. The Doctor's responsibility.

The confusion in Jack's eyes gives way to understanding. "Thank you." He leans in and kisses the Doctor on the mouth, hard, desperate. When he breaks the kiss, he leans their foreheads together. "It'll mean nothing. _Nothing_. I promise you. I know you—"

"We can deal with my issues when Rose is safe." It was meant to sound like another order, but comes out a plea. He can't talk about this now. Can't think about what Jack is going to do, and how often, and with how many people. If he thinks about it, he won't be able to let him go. "You have your orders."

"Yes, sir." Jack turns and begins to walk away.

"And be careful. Please." It's no more than a whisper, but Jack's heard him.

He nods and leaves without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Museums like the one Jack and Rose went to actually exist.[ Here on Earth.](http://www.kartoffelmuseum.de/museumseite.html)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dshael, who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_. Many thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

The Doctor paces by Rose's bed, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the info-screen. The rescue crews are still combing through the rubble in radiation suits, though by now they're unlikely to find any survivors. Anyone exposed to the intense radiation on site for this long is probably dead.

He turns back to Rose. She hasn't regained consciousness once. Probably best. She'd be in agony. And what could he tell her? Her face is drawn and her eyes are sunken in. The Doctor gently strokes her head – and stares in horror as a clump of blonde hair comes away in his hand.

The Doctor curses. It's been three hours. Where the hell is Jack?

He shudders as his brain helpfully supplies vivid images answering that question.

How did he let it come to this? One companion dying of small-minded bureaucracy. The other out there selling his body because the _genius_ Time Lord completely failed to find a more acceptable way out. And him standing here, doing nothing. It's a farce and a tragedy, and he's just an extra, a useless bystander who deserves to lose everything that matters to him – if that didn't entail suffering for the innocent humans he's dragged into this mess.

Oh, he knows Jack will be okay, both physically and mentally. The Time Agency vaccinates its agents against a plethora of diseases from all planets and eras, including anything Jack might otherwise pick up here. And Jack's attitude towards sex is so much more relaxed than his own. The Doctor knows that this is truly just a job to Jack. One he's done before. One he's good at.

But damn it all, the lad's _his_ now.

He chides himself. He doesn't own Jack. Course not. They're exclusive because Jack's willing to give him that, and what's happening right now really has nothing to do with it.

But the mental image of Jack kneeling in a dirty backstreet somewhere, sucking a fat violet cock and doing that little thing with his tongue to another man, makes the Doctor want to vomit. That and the feel of Rose's loose hair in his hand...

It's a good thing Time Lords never cry.

*****

In the back room of a bar not too far from what used to be the museum district, Jack folds a small stack of banknotes and hides them in his left sock. He's secreted his earnings in many small stashes all over his body. This is not the most reputable establishment, and there's no need to make it easy on pickpockets.

He checks his wristcomp. It's been three hours. He's serviced ten customers – all of whom were more than satisfied and tipped well. He has enough for a few more days in the hospital, the meds, and some decent testing now. But nursing care is extra, and he and the Doctor will have to eat something eventually.

There's time for one more.

He re-enters the bar, tosses the barman his ten percent, and looks around, making sure to stand up straight and flex his abs. It's been easy to find customers. Word of the exotic alien with the incredible technique has traveled fast.

He doesn't mind the job. As long as the customer is reasonably clean and doesn't get violent, Jack is happy to do or have done to him whatever is desired.

It's the thought of the Doctor that's making him queasy.

It wasn't a real order, of course not. The Doctor would never order Jack to use his body for sex. Though Jack wouldn't mind if he did. The Time Agency sent him on more than one mission that involved undercover work as a whore or a concubine, and Jack never had a problem with that. It's just casual sex.

But it's not casual for the Doctor. Jack understands enough about Time Lords in general and his Time Lord in particular by now to know that. Exclusivity is not just a preference for the Doctor, it's almost an imperative. Ordering him was the Doctor's attempt to take the responsibility from Jack, shoulder the blame. It was... sweet, in a certain back-handed way, but it won't change the fact that the Doctor will have a very hard time getting over what Jack has done.

If he gets over it at all.

Fuck. Jack knows that despite the Doctor's best intentions, this may still be the death knell for their relationship. But he can't dwell on that now.

Lost in thoughts of his lover, he almost misses the tall man in a lab coat coming towards him. But when Jack notices the stranger's searching eyes, he throws him a sultry smile. "Hello there."

The stranger nods gruffly. "I hear you give the best blow jobs this side of the pass."

Jack licks his lips and makes his eyes gleam. "Gorgeous, I give the best blow jobs on _any_ side of the pass."

*****

The Doctor looks up as a swarm of nurses descend on Rose.

"I want a blood sample," a young medic instructs them, "and a body scan. But for Gauka's sake, get her on pharmanucleids right now. Start with the emergency pack, I'll decide dosage when I see the test results."

"So, you finally decided to help her?" He's trying very hard not to snarl.

The young medic ignores him and continues barking instructions to the nurses, but the medical director, who's been talking to another patient's mother a few beds down, turns to the Doctor. "I told you we'd be happy to help her once you paid. Your other companion just deposited a sizable sum in the girl's account."

Jack's back? The Doctor looks around. Where is he? Damn, he's not scared to face him, is he?

The Doctor hates the thought of what Jack did, yes, but surely the lad knows he won't blame him?

He hears a sharp beep from the direction of Rose's bed and turns back. She's hooked up to two IVs now – pharmanucleids and saline, it looks like – and the medic is scribbling instructions on a chart.

One of the nurses hands the Doctor a data pad. "You're her father?" He nods. "Fill these in. It's an anamnesis – that means the health history of your daughter and your family."

"Know what it means."

"Well, good." Her smile is sugar-sweet and caring, as if she hadn't hurried past Rose's bed dozens of times without sparing her a second glance. "If you have trouble with any of the questions, don't hesitate to ask. Any of the staff will be happy to assist you."

He nods curtly. He doesn't trust himself to speak without letting all of them know where they can shove their sudden warm empathy and personal concern that was so sorely, sorely absent when Rose was just a penniless alien. So he silently focuses on the pad and reads it much more slowly than he has to, scribbles answers and ticks boxes at human speed.

When someone jostles his elbow, he looks up grimly, prepared to snap at the interruption – and finds himself staring in Jack's worried eyes. He quickly schools his face into a smile, but he knows Jack has seen the anger. He should probably explain, but...

"How is she?"

"Weak. But they finally put her on pharmanucleids."

"Was I... will it be in time?"

He nods. "Should be. Hard to be sure."

Jack holds out a small bag to him. "I got us sandwiches."

Food? He spent some of _that_ money on food? The Doctor's about to object when he realizes Jack must be starving. They haven't eaten since breakfast. Truth be told, he could go for a sandwich himself, but knowing what paid for it... He shakes his head. "You have mine. Don't need to eat yet."

Jack hesitates, then nods. "We have chairs now."

"Huh?"

Jack gestures. "They put some chairs by her bed."

Probably part of their "paid service." The Doctor scowls. Or maybe it's just due to the fact that the hospital is starting to get emptier as patients are released or die. There are still many beds out in the corridors, but it's not nearly as crowded as before.

The Doctor's been pacing for hours. He doesn't want to think about what position Jack's spent the last few hours in. So he just nods and sits in on one of the chairs, still scribbling on the pad.

Jack sits in the other, storing the bag with the sandwiches underneath. He takes Rose's hand – the one without the IV – and strokes it carefully. "Hey, sweetheart. I'm back. You're going to be okay now. They put you on some good medication and you'll be fine."

He sighs and turns to the Doctor. "Guess we better not tell her about all this, huh?"

The Doctor looks up sharply. Tell her? Blimey, no. "No reason she needs to know. Think about her century's attitude to sex. The guilt'd kill her."

Jack nods. "Like it's killing you."

He doesn't comment and starts working on the data pad again, re-reading all the questions to make sure he hasn't missed anything.

With a sigh, Jack leans against his shoulder.

He stiffens. What he ought to do is put an arm around Jack's waist and pull him close. No matter what his damn instincts say, that's the right thing to do. The lad's done nothing wrong. It's not his fault the Doctor's stomach is twisted into tight knots. Jack did the only thing they could to save Rose. Time Lord hang-ups about sex really don't matter compared to that. He raises his arm.

But he's hesitated too long. Jack's sat back up, turning his face away. His shoulders are tense and he doesn't say anything.

The Doctor hesitantly reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Jack shrugs him off. "Don't do me any favors." The casual movement is belied by the raw hurt and anger in his voice.

The Doctor swallows. Jack thinks he blames him. He doesn't – he blames the G'nudulaks, or maybe himself, but he doesn't have the skills to start a conversation about his emotions. Jack's in charge of that in their relationship, and right now he's too hurt and angry to ask the kind of questions that allow the Doctor to put things into words that he could not even admit to himself otherwise. "I can smell them on you," he says instead.

Jack turns sharply. "What?"

He carefully keeps his voice neutral, speaks as if he were explaining an interesting life form or a screwdriver setting. "Their sweat, their pheromones. Their..." He can't say it. The mere thought is slicing his hearts apart. "You're covered in them. I want to just ignore what happened, but–"

Jack's eyes darken and he shoots up. "You finished with that?" He points at the data pad.

The Doctor nods.

"Give it," he demands roughly.

The Doctor hands it over. "Jack..."

"Watch over her." He strides off in the direction of the nurses' station.

*****

Jack buys a sonic shower because it's the cheapest. It makes his teeth rattle and his skin crawl, and it doesn't do anything to soothe his sore muscles and aching knees, but it's guaranteed to get him clean, to remove every molecule of his customers from his body. He uses it on his clothes as well. The nurses would probably charge him more if they knew, but he's done it before and is quick about it.

He tries to tell himself that it's really not the Doctor's fault. Being that possessive and then having to smell almost a dozen other men and women on your lover can't be easy. He finds it hard to empathize with sexual possessiveness, it's such a strange notion to him, but he knows it's very real to the Doctor. _Hardwired_ , he once said.

This will take time. And conversations, when they're both in a better frame of mind to have them.

Goddammit, he's starving. He's going to go back there and eat his sandwich now, no matter if His-High-And-Mightiness is too good to eat food bought with a whore's wages.

 _Patience_ , he admonishes himself. _One of us needs to keep his feelings in check._

He emerges from the cubicle and walks back to Rose's bed. The Doctor's still in the chair, his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands. He almost looks as if... but no, he wouldn't. Probably just annoyed.

"Do I smell better now?" he grunts. _Dammit. Patience!_

The Doctor's head snaps around, eyes wide. He gets up and moves to hug Jack, then hesitates. Damn him. So much for the smell being the problem.

"May I...?"

Oh. It wasn't disgust this time. The Doctor's uncertain of his welcome. Damn right, too, way he's been acting. Jack really should–

He steps into the embrace and leans against the Doctor. "Always."

The Doctor's hug tightens. "Sorry. 'M trying."

He burrows into the crook of the Doctor's neck. "Are we going to be okay?"

"Yes." The absolute truth, the complete reassurance in the voice is something only the Doctor can do. One of the things Jack loves about him. One reason why losing the Doctor would be more than just losing a lover – it'd be losing his home, his anchor.

Then the Doctor hems hesitantly, and Jack's guts cramp painfully. "Well... if you're willing to be patient with me, that is."

 _Patience._ "I can do that."

The Doctor gently tilts up his chin and looks at him. "Didn't even ask. Should have. You all right?"

Jack nods. "Yeah. Fine."

"Did it... go okay? Can see you earned well, but did anyone... give you trouble?"

He shakes his head. "No. Good, clean business transactions."

He sees the Doctor frown at "clean," but the Time Lord just nods. "Right. Anything I can do for you?"

 _Keep holding me. Stop caring about the jobs. Take me right here, right now, show the world I'm yours till you no longer doubt it._ "Nah. Just want my sandwich now."

The Doctor nods and lets him go. He turns back to Rose. "She has a bit more color already." He strokes her head, then shakes a clump of hair off his hand. "She's gonna throw a fit when she sees what happened to her hair."

Light-hearted banter. He can do light-hearted banter. He takes the small plastic bag and chooses one of the sandwiches. "We'll tell her she can get your haircut."

The Doctor grins. "You tell her. While I'm in a far-off area of the TARDIS."

Jack grins back. "Deal."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"Yep." He smirks. "Of course, _you'll_ have to be the one to take her to see Jackie. While I wait for you two in a far-off area of the TARDIS."

The Doctor barks a laugh. "Thought you didn't want me to regenerate? 'Cause Jackie's certain to–"

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a short, heavy-set nurse interrupts. Her name tag says _Nurse Luda_. "The medical director sent me." She produces a syringe and looks at Jack. "I'm to take a blood sample from you."

"What's he want that for?" The Doctor steps between him and the nurse. "Nothing wrong with Jack."

Nurse Luda's voice rises in pitch. "Oh, don't worry, it's free of charge."

"That's nice. What's it for?"

Her cheeks flush magenta. "We just want to know if... err... Just let me take the sample, please."

Jack's about to nod, mostly because he doesn't care, but the Doctor crosses his arms and shakes his head. "No. If your director wants some of Jack's blood, he's damn well gonna give us an explanation."

Jack heart swells at the protectiveness in his tone. Over a vial of blood. Yeah, the Doctor still loves him.

The nurse huffs and scurries off. The Doctor turns to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Not getting near you with that needle without a reason."

Jack nods. "Might be best not to fight them, though. We don't want them mad at us. Rose's life depends on them."

The Doctor cocks his head. "You're all right with them taking it?"

Jack shrugs. "It's a sample vial. Won't miss it."

The Doctor nods darkly. "We'll see what reason they give."

Jack sees the medical director striding towards them and gestures with his chin to alert the Doctor. "We'll find out in a minute."

The director stops by Rose's bed. He briefly checks the monitors, then he turns to the men. "Nurse Luda says you want to talk to me?"

The Doctor nods. "What d'you want Jack's blood for?"

The director's smile is patronizing. "We just like to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" The Doctor squares his shoulders and taps his foot impatiently.

Jack would rather like to get a word in edgewise. The Doctor's overreacting. Maybe they just want to find out if he'd be a compatible donor if Rose needs one?

"Well," the director says. "We heard about how he procured the money he paid us."

What the hell– ?

"Got a problem with that?" The Doctor's tone is challenging, and his stance shows he's ready to strike. Jack leans back and decides to let him handle whatever it is. Clearly, it makes the Doctor feel better to be taking care of Jack, and he enjoys watching. Not that he couldn't deal with the director himself, but seeing the Doctor going Oncoming Storm on his behalf makes him more hopeful about the state of their relationship.

The director shrugs carelessly. "Why would I? It's a legal trade. G'ndulak culture places no restrictions on what people can trade, as long as it's theirs to sell. I just want the hospital to be prepared for the fall-out."

"And what fall-out is that?" the Doctor asks sharply.

"Well, we'd just like to be prepared if a lot of patients with alien STDs start coming in." The director sounds utterly reasonable. "If we know what to expect, we can stock up on medications."

Uh oh. Jack knows the way the Doctor's jaw is moving. They're seconds away from an explosion. He puts a hand on the Doctor's hip and squeezes gently, silently asking him to remain calm.

The Doctor takes a deep breath and pushes into the touch. Jack sees the medical director raise an eyebrow, but luckily he doesn't comment. Very quietly and deliberately, the Doctor says, "Jack is clean."

"Oh, thank Gauka you told me!" The director's voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Because I've certainly never heard _that_ before."

The Doctor nods grimly. "Jack," he begins, still staring at the director. "You willing to give them their sample – even though it'll come up clean?"

"Sure," Jack says quickly. He holds out his arm. "Go ahead, I don't mind."

"Thank you." The director takes out a syringe and a steripad. He swabs the crook of Jack's elbow and gently pulls a sample. "See, that wasn't so hard."

The Doctor grunts. "And you're not charging us for this, right?"

"Oh, absolutely." He smiles in a way that's probably supposed to be reassuring, but just comes across as smug. "It's just for our own preparation. Helps adjusting supplies and profit margins."

Figures that's what he'd care about.

The director turns to Jack. "However, if you want treatment for anything we discover–"

"You won't discover anything!" The Doctor puts a hand on Jack's shoulder and glares.

"We'll see about that. Thank you for your cooperation." With another check of Rose's monitors, the director departs.

Jack covers the Doctor's hand on his shoulder with his own and squeezes. The Doctor looks down, and he smiles up at him gratefully.

The Doctor shrugs, takes a deep breath and sits next to Jack. "I'll have that sandwich now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dshael, who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_. Many thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

They wait. For a night and most of the next day, they wait.

Rose has stopped getting worse, and her vitals are stable, but she's not showing any signs of actual improvement.

The Doctor tells Jack that's normal in this early stage. It's not exactly a lie. But as they wait through another night — Jack finally asleep in his chair and the Doctor propping him up — the Doctor watches the monitors with more and more worry. If only he could get Rose to the TARDIS. But the info-screen says it will be at least three days until the pass reopens. He toys with the idea of trying to procure an air shuttle, but they are all being used by the military to fly supplies into Duladi. They can't be rented, they don't take passengers, and even if Jack's small blaster were a match for a squad of soldiers, Rose is in no condition to be taken into a firefight. They're stuck.

Jack stirs and mumbles in his sleep. The Doctor pulls him closer, but his eyes remain glued on Rose. She's breathing steadily, and she's not dehydrated anymore, but that's due to the IV. There should be signs of natural healing by now, but Rose is stagnant.

Still fast asleep, Jack curls up and beds his head in the Doctor's lap. The back of his head is pressing against the Doctor's groin. The Doctor lets him, but he realizes that he takes no pleasure from it. He tries to tell himself it's just the worry over Rose. Because he has no right for it to be anything else.

He keeps watching the monitors. He'll have to talk to the medics in the morning.

*****

When Jack wakes up with his head in the Doctor's lap, he smiles, and allows himself to snuggle closer. But then he feels the Doctor stiffen — and not in a good way — and sits up. He hides his hurt by rubbing his face until he can produce a smile. "Morning," he says.

"Morning." There's a hint of guilt in the Doctor's eyes. Jack considers kissing it off, but finds he doesn't quite dare. If the Doctor's unwilling to kiss him at the moment, he'd rather not know.

"How is she?" he asks instead.

The Doctor frowns. "Still unchanged. Going to talk to the medics about that today. Should be some signs of improvement by now."

Jack nods worriedly. He gets up and stretches, then feels his pockets. He has a little cash left. "I'm going to wash and get us breakfast."

"Just get it for yourself. Need to stretch our money."

Jack nods, but privately resolves to make the Doctor eat at least a few bites. He walks to the nurses' station to buy access to a wet cell.

When he returns to Rose's bedside, he finds the Doctor talking to the medical director, gesturing wildly. The director has his usual smug, distant expression. "Very well, if you insist. Since she's stable for now, I was going to wait another day before calling in a specialist — to save _you_ the cost, I might point out — but if you want, I will send for Medic Bulil right now. He's our expert for biostructural medicine."

"An' how much does he know about alien cell structures? Will he be able to help her? Or willing to listen?"

"You'd best discuss that with him. I'll have him paged." The director nods at a nurse, who hurries off; he disappears into a flight of private rooms off the other side of the hallway.

"Biostructural medicine?" Jack raises an eyebrow.

"Cell structures and such. Rose's cells aren't renewing. Well, they are, but only just as fast as they're dying off. She's stable, but she's not healing. An' if she stays in this state too long, the strain on her system will become too much and her condition will start to deteriorate."

Jack bites back a curse. Nothing to be gained by getting angry, by demanding to know why he wasn't told this before. He opens the cafeteria bag and hands the Doctor a banana. "There. Eat. No arguments."

The Doctor frowns but obediently peels the fruit. "Told ya to save the money."

"They were free with a breakfast sandwich, and you know I hate the damn things." Well, the second half of this statement is true. And that exactly how much of it the Doctor believes, if his raised eyebrow is anything to go by. Jack takes out his sandwich — stale bread with an unappetizing green paste — and begins to wolf it down.

A tall man in a lab coat approaches Rose's bed. Jack throws a brief look at him, then hurriedly returns his gaze to his sandwich. Medic Bulil only glances at them before he turns to the monitors. While he's studying them, the medical director returns and the two start discussing Rose's stats in fast medical jargon that Jack can't follow.

The Doctor is following, of course, and occasionally tries to comment, but the two ignore him. Probably don't care for an ignorant alien's medical opinion. Since the Doctor's not pushing, Jack assumes that whatever the G'ndulaks are saying makes sense. The Doctor wouldn't hesitate to tell them off if he thought their care of Rose was anything less than ideal — within the constraints of this time and place.

"I need a healthy sample for comparison," Medic Bulil says.

The director points at Jack. "That one's completely healthy."

"You don't say," the Doctor mumbles, loudly enough that the medics can't pretend they didn't hear. The director throws him a brief, irritated glance, then glares at Jack as if his health was a personal affront. "Yeah, well. We were just being cautious."

The Doctor grunts but doesn't comment.

Medic Bulil pulls out a small probe and approaches Jack. "I need a tissue sample."

Jack stretches out his hand without hesitation, keeping his eyes on the probe.

The medic presses it to the inside of his wrist briefly and there's a short, sharp sting. A drop of blood wells up, but then the end of the probe starts glowing in a green light, Jack's wrist warms, and by the time the medic plugs the probe into a hand-held scanner, there's no trace of the small puncture.

Medic Bulil studies the scanner and nods. "Yes, definitely. I can use this to create a molecular reconstitution stimulant."

"Molecular reconstitution stimulant?" Jack asks, because he has no idea what's going on and someone has to explain it to him. Now.

The medic looks up briefly. "I'll use your cells and a preparation I've developed to create a solution that, when fed to her intravenously, will kick-start cell repair. Once it reaches critical mass, her body should be able to maintain it itself."

Jack nods. Sounds great. And a succinct and clear explanation. He smiles at the man with real gratitude. "You need anything more from me?"

The medic frowns. "This will be quite enough." He turns to the Doctor. "If you even want the treatment."

"Course we do! Why wouldn't we?"

The director speaks up. "The treatment is expensive. It's an experimental process developed here. And we'd have to create a batch of the stimulant especially for your species. Seeing how the girl's account is almost empty—"

"What?" the Doctor interrupts. "How can it be empty? The pharmanucleids can't be that expensive!"

"It's not just those. It's the monitoring, the nursing care, the saline—"

"Saline? How much do you charge for bog-standard saline?"

"It may be 'bog-standard' to you, but our own people are put on sulfide solution if we need to keep them hydrated. We had to research your species' blood composition and ideal osmolarity for intravenous hydration, and then manufacture the fluid especially for the girl. And then there's this specialist consultation."

The Doctor huffs. "How much does Rose have left?"

"Enough for one dose of the stimulant or a few more nights in this bed. But not both."

A nod. "Right. Get her on it. We'll have more money before the end of the day."

What? Jack can't believe he heard right. Of course he'll go out again, but the Doctor saying so with such a casual attitude, and without even checking with him — well, that's progress if ever he saw it.

The medical director nods and leaves. Medic Bulil starts to follow, but then turns to Jack and whispers, "Same bar?"

"If the barman's all right with it."

Bulil nods. "See you there then." A small smile. "Yours _are_ the best on any side of the pass."

Jack grins. "Looking forward to it." He is. Their transaction was perfectly pleasant, and the medic's both clean and generous.

As Bulil walks away, Jack gulps and turns back to the Doctor. They spoke very quietly — but Time Lords have excellent hearing.

The Doctor's glaring daggers at Bulil's back. "He's one of your... customers?"

Hardly any point denying it now. Jack nods.

The Doctor makes to storm after Bulil, but Jack grabs his wrist. Hard. "He was clean, he was polite, and he tipped well." A freely-offered service freely bought. Jack wishes the Doctor could see it that way.

The Doctor stops. He's breathing heavily and still staring after the medic. "What did you do with him?"

Jack remains silent.

The Doctor turns to glare at him. "Tell me!"

Jack shakes his head. "Would you feel any better if you knew?"

There's a flicker of doubt in the Doctor's eyes. "Just tell me."

"No." Jack holds up a hand to silence him. "If it were life or death, I would. But it's not. And I do have some standards."

"Standards?" The Doctor tilts his chin up and narrows his eyes.

"I believe if someone's paying me to do a job, I should do it well. He paid for my services. Confidentiality is part of the service."

The Doctor scoffs. "What? There's whore-client privilege now?"

The disdain pierces Jack to the marrow. He puts steel into his voice. "Has been since ancient Greece, actually. Excuse me for taking some pride. Even in my whoring."

The Doctor blinks, and for a moment there's shame in his eyes.

It's just enough to remind Jack that the Doctor's speaking out of hurt, and that he promised him patience. He takes a breath to calm himself.

The Doctor shakes his head. "Doesn't matter anyway. You're not going out again."

"What?" He physically drags the Doctor into a niche between two cupboards. "You're going to let Rose die because you happened to meet one of my customers?"

"Course not." He frees his arm from Jack's grasp with an angry shake. "Never meant for you to go out again."

"Then how do you expect to pay them for the cell treatment? I thought we'd covered this. It's our only option!"

The Doctor shakes his head. "Not sending you out to do that again." He straightens. "Going myself this time."

Jack is gobsmacked. For a moment, his mouth is opening and closing with no words coming out. He'd always thought that only happened in cartoons. "Are you fucking insane?" he finally stammers.

"Only fair." The stubborn expression on the Doctor's face is frighteningly familiar. It's his "nothing you could possibly say would dissuade me" face. Normally, Jack takes it as a sign not to argue, since there's no way to change the Doctor's mind once it's that set on something. But this time, he has to.

"You cannot do that. I won't let you."

" _Let_ me?" the Doctor raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Let. I'll stop you, no matter what it takes. This is insane."

The Doctor scoffs. "What, you think I can't do it?"

Jack nods. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Think you're that much better at sex than me, eh?" the Doctor grunts.

"Paid sex with strangers?" The flicker of anxiety in the Doctor's eyes only strengthens Jack's resolve. "Damn right I am."

The Doctor sets his jaw stubbornly but doesn't reply.

Jack very deliberately places a hand — shielded from prying eyes with his body — on the Doctor's zip and pokes the soft flesh beneath sharply enough to make him gasp. "Could you even get it up?"

The Doctor chews his lips angrily. "Won't have to, will I? Long as I can use my mouth to blow 'em or turn over and let them... What do they care if I'm flaccid?"

Jack's torn between mocking the Doctor's naivete and feeling touched by it. For all his vast age and knowledge, there still are things that are completely outside the realm of the Doctor's experience. And meaningless sex for money is probably near the top of the list.

Jack can't help himself. He cups the Doctor's face in his hand and strokes his cheek with his thumb. The Doctor closes his eyes, equally helpless to resist the tenderness. "And it's this cluelessness," Jack says softly, "that means I can't let you do this. Much as I appreciate the thought."

The Doctor's eyes open but his cheek still rests in Jack's hand. "They do care?" he asks, and the uncertainty in his voice makes much of Jack's anger drain away.

"Business is a lot more varied than you seem to think. You don't just blow them and let them fuck you. Some want to blow you. Some want to be fucked. Some want you to piss on them, or take them over your knee and spank their asses cherry-red. You do what the customer wants." At the Doctor's worried glance, he corrects himself. "Of course, you can turn down anything you're not comfortable with. But the more business you turn down, the less money you make."

He gently kisses the Doctor's lips. "Trust me. I don't mind the work. I'm good at it. I know how to do it safely. And... You're the most breathtaking being I've ever seen, but I'm more conventionally handsome than you." He pauses, waiting for a reaction to that, but the Doctor just inclines his head.

Jack presses on. "I'll find customers faster. I'll get tipped better. I can make the money Rose needs more quickly and in fewer transactions than you could." He gently squeezes the Doctor's chin and speaks slowly and deliberately. "It'd be insane for you to go out to do a job you abhor of out of some misunderstood notion of fair play. It'd worry me more to wait here knowing you're out there traumatizing yourself than it'll bother me to earn the money myself."

He's almost got him. He can see it in the Doctor's eyes. His lover is almost at the point of letting him go. He just needs one more push, one more excuse not to shoulder this himself.

Jack gestures towards Rose, and the Doctor turns to look at her. "If she wakes up, she'll need you to be here more than me." It's true. Rose loves them both, but the Doctor's her safe haven in terrible storms. As he is Jack's.

The second he says it, the Doctor's eyes soften and Jack knows he's won. With a sound almost like a whimper, the Doctor nods. He turns back and kisses Jack hard, squeezes his ass through his jeans until a disapproving hiss from a nurse makes them break apart. "Be careful. Don't take any risks. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with. Better to turn down business than deal with someone who'll give you trouble."

Jack nods. He knows all this, but the Doctor'll feel better for having lectured him.

"And Jack... Thank you. Much as I'm being an arse about this, I do appreciate what you're doing for Rose."

And just like that, Jack forgives him. He doesn't need an apology — this moment of being allowed to glimpse the Doctor's vulnerability, of being told he's doing the right thing, is enough for him to let go of the hurt and the anger. He smiles, presses a chaste peck on the Doctor's cheek, and slips away before his lover can change his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dshael, who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_. Many thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

Rose opens her eyes. There are glaring, pinkish lights above her, a hard, narrow bed beneath her, and whining, beeping monitors beside her. She feels as if an army of woodpeckers has taken up residence right behind her temples and her body is filled with rancid oil. She doesn't know where she is. The last thing she remembers—

She gasps.

Instantly, the glaring lights are blocked out by a dark figure leaning over her, and the Doctor’s dear face is grinning at her goofily.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

She tries to smile, but finds her lips dry and cracked. "Water?" she whispers.

He nods and reaches behind himself, then he carefully props up her head and holds a bottle of cool, fresh water to her lips. She drinks greedily.

"Small sips," he admonishes her.

"Better let me do that, sir," a squat purple nurse interrupts.

The Doctor shakes his head and snaps. "I can give my own daughter water, thank you." His eyes flick to hers on _daughter_ , and she nods.

The nurse huffs. "I'll get the medic."

She's still sipping water and trying to get her voice back when a tall, puce bloke appears next to the Doctor. He barely glances at her and starts studying the monitors. The nurse hovers two steps behind him.

"Rose," the Doctor says with false cheerfulness. "This is the medical director. He's not the one who fixed you, just the bloke making sure the bills get paid."

The director raises an eyebrow. He smiles in a way that makes Rose instantly dislike him. "Medic Bulil is taking a long lunch today. Apparently he has some important appointment in a nearby bar."

The Doctor drops the bottle. Cold water splashes all over Rose.

"Oi!" At least her voice is working again.

"Sorry! Sorry, Rose. You all right?" He sounds more distraught than he should about a bit of water. She's not made of sugar. Probably still freaked out over whatever landed her here to begin with.

She nods. "Just wet." And exhausted as hell, but that has nothing to do with the water.

"I'll bring a new nightgown," the nurse says and disappears down the corridor.

Rose follows her with her eyes, then looks around. "Where's Jack?"

The Doctor and the director exchange a glance. The Doctor's face darkens. Oh god.

"Is he okay?" She grabs his wrist. "Did something happen to Jack?"

"I'm right here, sweetheart." Jack's face appears in her field of vision, and he sends her the warm, reassuring smile that always makes her smile back. "Just had to talk to the bursar for a minute." He looks from her to the Doctor and back. "All sorted now."

As Jack steps around to take her hands, the Doctor takes a step back and... wrinkles his nose? Rose frowns. What's that about? But before she can ask, the Doctor grabs Jack's arm and stares at something on its backside, above the elbow. "What's that?" he demands, his voice low and gravelly.

Jack cranes his head to look over his shoulder. "Oh, just a cut." He shrugs.

"How did—" The Doctor stops and looks at her, "We'll be right back, Rose. Want to take a look at Jack's cut in proper light."

She nods tiredly. She has a lot of questions — like why she's here, and where _here_ is — but if the Doctor thinks Jack's wound needs looking at, that's more urgent. She'll wait.

*****

The Doctor corners him between the same two cupboards he used for that purpose earlier. "What happened?" he grinds out. "Who hurt you?"

Jack raises his hands placatingly. "No one hurt me, it—"

"Jack!" The Doctor's eyes flash with anger. "The truth!"

"I'm telling you the truth!" Protectiveness is all good and well, but could the stubborn git at least let him finish? "We were in a back room, it was dark, we were up against the wall, there was a nail — neither of us saw it. My fault as much as hers."

The Doctor looks at him searchingly. He cups Jack's chin in his hand and gently holds it. "That it?"

Jack nods. "It was an accident. Nothing more."

The Doctor strokes his hand along Jack's jawline as he lets go of his chin. "Go to the nurses' station, have them fix it up. Would do it myself, but it's pretty deep and the screwdriver's almost flat. And..." He shuffles his feet and looks away.

"Take a shower?" Jack asks with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

The Doctor nods. "Sorry."

He shakes his head and squeezes the Doctor's hand. "It's fine. I'd want one anyway. Go to Rose. Tell her I'll be right back."

*****

When the Doctor comes back without Jack, Rose frowns with worry. But the Doctor's grin is wide and reassuring. "Sent him to get that patched up and shower. He'll be back soon."

She nods. Is it her imagination, or is there pain lurking behind the Doctor's eyes?

"What's wrong with me then?" Rose asks. If that's what the Doctor's worried about, she'd rather know.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Spuds. Lots of 'em. We were at the museum, and then... there was this screeching sound, and..." She shrugs and looks at the Doctor. He'll fill in the blanks.

"What you heard was an explosion." He nods in the direction of some screen with scrolling pink writing, but she can't read it from here. "News says they've figured out it was some artifact in the space travel museum that they thought was a grooming device."

Rose frowns. "Packs a lot of punch for a hairdryer."

The Doctor chuckles. "Could say that. Anyway, Jack got you out with his teleporter, but you got a hefty dose of radiation."

Radiation? Her mind flashes back to those documentaries about Chernobyl her science teacher made them watch. "Is Jack really okay?" _Am I?_

"Fine. Time Agency implanted him with... 'S boring, but he's pretty much immune to that type of radiation. But you weren't doing so well for a while there."

"How long was I out?"

The Doctor gently takes her hands. "Day before yesterday."

"Two days?" She struggles to sit up. The Doctor helps her, and just then Jack appears and props her up with pillows.

She sees the Doctor stealing a glance at Jack's arm, and she sees Jack noticing but pretending not to. There seems to be tension between the two. Or is it just the worry about her?

"How come we're here?" she asks. "TARDIS medbay can't fix this?"

The Doctor scoffs. "Could have fixed you a lot faster there, but we're cut off. Remember the museum district was on the pass? One big field of radioactive rubble now."

God — how big _was_ that explosion? She catches Jack's hand. "Are you really all right?"

He smiles and presses her hand to his lips. "I'm fine. I promise."

Rose yawns and rubs her eyes. There's a strand of hair irritating her nose, so she smooths it back — and gasps. She stares at her hand in shock — there's a whole clump of loose hair in it. And she could swear she just felt patches of blank skull. Panicky, she puts both hands on her head and feels around. Skin. Lots of skin, and more hair coming loose in her hands. She looks at the Doctor wide-eyed.

He grimaces. "Sorry. Should've warned you. Side effect from the radiation."

She does and doesn't want to ask for a mirror. "How bad is it?"

The Doctor shuffles his feet.

"Doctor! How bad?"

It's Jack who sits down on the edge of her bed and puts his hands on her shoulders. "It's pretty bad right now, Rose. More than half of it's gone."

"Is it going to... stay that way?"

They both shake their heads. "No, sweetheart. It'll grow back. Hell, once we can get back to the TARDIS, we can go to Santoria III and buy some of that stimulant they have, make it grow faster. Right, Doc?" Jack nudges his shin with a foot.

"Right!" The Doctor nods. "Will grow back in no time, you'll see. Two months. Three at most."

Three months. Right. She swallows and nods. She's lucky to be alive. Maybe she can get extensions, or some kind of realistic-looking alien wig... She impatiently rubs her eyes as she feels tears well up. _It's just hair._

Jack grins at her in a way that means he's about to say something that'll get him smacked. "If you want, I'll shave mine off, too. We can regrow it together." He winks in the Doctor's direction. "Those of us who know how, that is."

"Oi." There's no heat in the Doctor's voice. Rose figures that like her, he's stuck on the first half of Jack's statement.

Jack Harkness, seducer extraordinaire, and not half vain, has just offered to shave his head to keep her company. She throws her arms around him and kisses his cheek. "Don't you dare."

He rubs her back, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "We'll just buy you a bunch of fabulous hats, then."

She smiles and leans back against the pillows. "Help me pick 'em out?"

"Of course! Maybe something with feathers! Hey, on Kioby they have these hats that incorporate birdcages — with songbirds in them! Live ones! You could have feathers _and_ music!"

Rose groans and looks at the Doctor. "Smack him for me, would you?"

Jack laughs and pretends to duck. The Doctor's pulling back his hand to do as she asked when they're interrupter by the medical director.

"Excuse me." He hands the Doctor a data pad. "I just need your signature on this."

The Doctor glances down. "What is it?"

"Oh, it's just to confirm that you agree with the money for the prostitute's treatment being taken out of your daughter's account. The nurses should have made you sign it before they treated him."

Rose freezes, and so does the Doctor. Jack's the only one who still seems perfectly at ease — and the sidelong glance he throws her shows that's pretense. "Not a problem. Right, Doc?"

The Doctor blinks and nods. "Course not." He presses his thumb to the pad.

The director takes it back, smiling sweetly. "Yes, I was sure it wouldn't be an issue. After all, it's only due to his tricks that there's money in the account to begin with." He glances at the monitors beside her bed and leaves.

Jack and the Doctor turn to her. Jack is smiling, but the Doctor's face is frozen.

She feels something wet on her cheeks. She can't breathe. She rubs her face with a corner of the blanket. A gasping sob escapes her. "Oh god."

Jack pulls her into a hug. "It's okay, hon. Really, it's okay."

She clings to him, burrowing her face into his chest. "I was upset about my hair! My bloody _hair_! When you... when you had to..." She's sobbing too hard to continue.

Jack's rocking her back and forth. "Shhhh, honey. Please don't cry, Rose. _I_ am more upset about your hair than about the job."

"Job?" She has to fight to get the word out through her tears. "That's not a _job_ , that's..." She can't go on. The Doctor's hand touches her shoulder, squeezing gently.

Jack shushes her. "To me it is, sweetheart. Just a job."

Rose shakes her head. She's getting tears and snot all over Jack's shirt. But he probably won't mind that, either. "It's selling your body!"

"More like renting, really." She can hear the grin in his voice, but it doesn't cheer her up. He very gently takes her face between his hands and looks at her. "Say I'd worked as a stevedore. Loaded and unloaded boxes all day. Would you be upset then?"

Well, maybe a little bit guilty, but nothing like this. She shakes her head.

Jack smiles. "And how would that not be renting my body? It'd be a lot harder, too, and I'd probably be very sore right now. And all that for a lot less money."

She shakes her head. "It's not the same!"

"It is where Jack comes from, Rose." The Doctor's voice is strained, but sincere. "He's telling you the truth. He's fine with it."

Jack throws the Doctor a grateful glance, but Rose is anxious as she turns to him. "Are you?"

The Doctor looks away. "I'm all right with the idea of prostitutes. Wouldn't go there myself, but there's nothing wrong with the job long as it's what someone freely chooses." He sighs. "Not so crazy 'bout the idea of my partner doing it, but that's 'cause I'm the possessive type. An' it's not like we had a—" He stops and clears his throat. "I'll get over it."

Jack settles her against his right shoulder and wraps his left arm around the Doctor. "We're together, we're alive, none of us are badly damaged — can we please stop freaking out about an emotional trauma I don't even understand, much less suffer from?"

The Doctor wraps his arms around them both, and she snuggles in between them. She still can't believe what Jack did. For her. But she knows him — he's an excellent liar when talking to strangers, but an open book to people he loves. His smile, the way he's holding her, the tone of his voice — that's not a brave front he's putting on, that's Jack truly being okay.

Except when he looks at the Doctor. Then she can see the shadow of worry in his eyes.

She's worried, too. This must be hell on the Doctor, more than on either one of them. He'll blame himself for not having been the one to save her, and for what Jack had to do, _and_ for letting it color his treatment of his lover.

She squeezes the Doctor's hand and he smiles at her, but the tension is still lurking in his eyes.

She hopes he was right when he said he'll get over it with time, because she has no idea what she might do to help, and she's not sure Jack does, either.

But that's a question for another day, and she's too tired to think about it now.

*****

Four days later, the info-screen announces that the pass has been reopened. Jack spots it first and points it out to the others. He feels like a weight has been lifted off his heart. The TARDIS is within reach now. They can leave this place.

"Fantastic. We're going home," the Doctor announces, grinning at him happily.

Rose sighs in relief. "Finally. My own bed."

Medic Bulil, who is checking Rose's stats, hums worriedly. "Your daughter is much improved, but I'd still like to keep her here another night or two for observation."

"Once I get her to my ship, I can take care of her myself," the Doctor growls. Medic Bulil has been nothing but helpful and professional, but the Doctor can't get over his dislike for the man.

Jack puts a hand on his lover's arm and smiles at the medic. "Thank you for your concern — " He feels the Doctor's muscles tense. " — but we're leaving."

The medic nods. "I'll tell the nurses to draw up the release papers."

Jack helps Rose to one of the shower cubicles so she can change back into her own — freshly laundered — clothes in private. His offer to help is answered with a swat to his hip — but when he hands her a headscarf he talked one of the nurses into "liberating" from the lost and found box, she smiles and kisses his cheek.

"Thanks. You're the best."

He returns to the Doctor, who smiles at him and puts an arm around his waist. It's a little stiff. The Doctor is still having a hard time with what happened, but he's trying. Jack only hopes that once they're back in the TARDIS — back _home_ — normality will settle in.

A nurse approaches them and hands them a data pad. "This one's to confirm that you're leaving against Medic Bulil's advice." The Doctor presses his thumb to it without hesitation.

The nurse hands them another data pad. "This ones to decide what you want to do with the rest of the money in your account."

The Doctor scrolls through the brief file — too fast for Jack, who's trying to read over his shoulder. There are three boxes at the bottom: _cash out_ , _retain_ and _donate_. The Doctor looks at him. "Your choice. You're the one who... earned it."

Jack considers. They're leaving G'ndulak, so he has no use for the cash — what he has left is enough for a taxi to the TARDIS. And Rose won't be hospitalized here again — ever — so there's no point in keeping a retainer. "What would I be donating it to?" he asks.

"Fund they have for people who can't afford treatment."

Jack turns to the nurse. "There's a fund? No one told us!"

The nurse shakes her head. "It's not for aliens, of course."

"Of course," Jack says darkly. He can't _wait_ to get out of here. The Doctor mumbles something in Gallifreyan that sounds extremely rude.

"We'll donate it," Jack decides.

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at him. "You sure?"

He shrugs. "It'll still go to people who need treatment."

The Doctor hesitates, then nods. "Right you are." He checks the third box and confirms with a thumbprint, then attempts to hand it to the nurse.

She shakes her head. "The medical director needs to sign this."

"Well, where is he?" the Doctor asks impatiently, just as Rose rejoins them. The nurse nods in the direction of the reception area.

"Fine. Give it to him on our way out," the Doctor grunts. He looks from Jack to Rose. "Got everything?"

They nod. Not like they came in with anything except the clothes they stand up in.

Jack helps Rose adjust the headscarf. "Looks gorgeous on you," he says and kisses her forehead.

"Liar. But thanks." She smiles and takes their hands, and they walk down the corridor together.

As they approach the reception area, they hear a shrill voice.

"— are _not_ canceling on me again! That's the third time this week!"

"Well," the voice of the medical director replies, sounding strained, "There _has_ been a disaster, dear, and—"

"I'll tell you what's a disaster, _this marriage_ is a disaster!" the voice screeches.

"Dearest, not here, we can talk when I get h—"

"And when is that going to be, huh? I swear, you couldn't find the house if you tried, you've not been there in so long!"

Rounding the corner, they see a petite G'ndulak woman poking the medical director's chest with a finger. Her skin is so pale as to be almost pink, but her face is dark red with anger. The medical director's cheeks are flushed mauve with embarrassment. His eyes keep darting around the lobby at the people staring at the spectacle. "Darling, really..."

They exchange grins. Jack is normally opposed to partners humiliating each other like that — unless it's by mutual agreement — but somehow he can't feel too bad about it in this case. He holds out his hand to the Doctor. "Let me handle this." The Doctor gives him the data pad with a questioning glance.

The woman stomps her foot. "It's like I don't matter to you at all anymore!"

"Of course you—"

"Excuse me," Jack interrupts with his most winning smile.

The director turns to him with a look of relief. "Yes? Can I help you?"

" _What?_ " His wife shoves his shoulder. "Isn't that the alien prostitute everyone's gossiping about? You'd talk to a common whore rather than your wife?"

Jack can feel Rose and the Doctor freeze behind him. The Doctor's no doubt ready to come to his defense, but he gestures behind his back to keep them quiet, and greets the director's wife with an elegant bow. "It's a pleasure to meet the director's wife, ma'am." It really, really is.

"Pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," she huffs, but seems somewhat mollified.

Jack turns back to the director and hands him the pad. "We just need your signature on this, then we'll be on our way."

The director scans it briefly and raises an eyebrow. "Generous of you." He presses his thumb to the bottom of the pad. "I'll see to it that this gets to the bursar." He looks at Jack with one of his false smiles. "Thank you for doing business with us. We value your patronage."

Jack lets his smile become sultry and seductive. He steps into the director's personal space and gently strokes a hand along his arm. In a sweet, low voice he says, "And I valued yours."

Before the director has a chance to react, Jack whirls around, puts one arm around each of his companions — keeping an especially tight hold on the fuming Doctor — and steers them out through the revolving door. The last thing they hear is the reception area exploding with high-pitched screeching and the thuds of a handbag hitting skin. Not melodious sounds, but highly gratifying.

As they emerge outside, Rose curls her tongue around her teeth. "Wouldn't want to be him for a while... like a few years." She giggles as Jack nods and grins.

The Doctor's scowling. His hands are tight fists. His voice barely controlled, he growls, "Thought you were particular about keeping your customers' confidence?"

Jack smirks. "Oh, I am." The smirk turns into a grin. "But he was never one of my customers."

They laugh all the way back to the TARDIS.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dshael, who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_. Many thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

By the time they get to the TARDIS, Rose is exhausted. She sits in the jump seat and yawns. "Where to now?"

The Doctor plugs the screwdriver into the port on the console he uses to charge it. "TARDIS is going into the Vortex, and you are going to the medbay." He starts flipping levers and dials.

Rose groans. "I've been looking forward to my own bed for days."

"Want to monitor your condition. Should be stable now, but..." He looks at her, and she can see the worry and guilt in his eyes. He needs to be sure.

She sighs. "Can't you monitor me in my room, though? Please?"

The Doctor looks at Jack. "Help me move the equipment?"

Jack nods. "Sure."

"Right. C'mon then." He links his arm through hers and they escort her to her room. She sits heavily on the bed — her wonderful, soft bed with the fluffy pink duvet Jack talked a Tristonian clan chief into having made for "the lady who saved the children." She gets up again and walks towards the en-suite before she can talk herself into just curling up and sleeping in her clothes.

"You okay to change into your pyjamas, brush your teeth and whatever?" the Doctor asks.

"Course," she says. She's tired, not an invalid.

"All right. We'll go and get the monitors. Be back in ten minutes." He smiles.

"Gimme twenty." She wants a quick shower at least, and enough time to get ready for bed without rushing.

They nod and leave.

Rose showers, dries herself off and puts on her warmest set of pyjamas — pink flannel her mother gave her for Christmas. Then she finally screws up her nerves and turns to the mirror she's been avoiding. She stands and looks at herself. Her hair's a mess. There's hardly any of it left, but what she does have is still as long as it was, hanging down in curling, untidy wisps. She'll have to shave those off, too, let it all grow back together.

She notices an electric razor on the side of the sink. That wasn't there five minutes ago. She smiles. "Thanks, girl."

She picks it up determinedly and touches it to her forehead. Her hands are shaking. Must be the exhaustion, of course. What else would it be? It's just hair after all.

She presses the button, and the razor lights up and makes a buzzing noise not unlike the screwdriver's. Sonic razor then. Just as well. She slowly moves it back and forth across her scalp, then left to right. Long wisps of hair fall on the floor and into the sink. They seem blurry for some reason, and so does her reflection. She takes a deep breath and keeps going.

There's a knock on her door, and the Doctor's voice calls out, "Rose? You decent?"

"Yeah, come on i—" She loses her voice in a sob. Dammit. It's just hair.

The door opens and the Doctor is by her side faster than should be possible. Jack has to squeeze past the trolley full of equipment to get to her door, but he's not far behind. "Rose, what's wr— Oh." The Doctor looks from her to the razor and back. "Rose... it'll grow again."

Now she can't hold back the sobs anymore. Jack turns her around and holds her tight. In the mirror, she can see him glare at the Doctor.

"Sorry. Was trying to help."

Jack shakes his head and kisses her forehead. "Rose. You have a lovely face. Beautiful eyes. And a great body."

She swats his arse at that, but hopes he won't stop.

He cups her face in his large, warm hands. "You don't need hair to be gorgeous."

The wonderful thing about Jack is, he means it. He has a way of looking at people and seeing right past their blemishes to the beauty. The Doctor means well, and he doesn't care about her hair either, but Jack is a lot better at finding the right words. She leans against him. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make a fuss."

They both shake their heads.

"'S fine."

"Sweetheart, do you want me to get the back for you?" Jack asks.

"Please."

Jack picks up the razor and sits her down on the toilet lid. With a few sure strokes, he cleans up everything she missed. Then he grabs a tube of lotion from the shelf and shows it to her. "Do you want to, or should I?"

Lotion. Right. She wouldn't have though of it, but it's a good idea. She nods at him.

While Jack rubs it in and massages her skull — and wow, where did he learn to do that? — Rose watches the Doctor. He's leaning against the doorjamb, clearly uncomfortable. This is all too domestic for him. And whenever he looks at Jack, there's a shadow of pain in his eyes. Jack, on the other hand, is barely looking at his lover at all.

Rose sighs. "You two need to talk."

The both freeze.

"Please," Rose presses on. "I'll never forgive myself if you break up because of me."

The blokes exchange a glance.

"Rose," Jack says, "None of this is your fault."

The Doctor looks at him, startled. "Also, we're not going to break up... right?"

Jack sighs. "God, I hope not." He picks up the scarf and gently wraps it around her head, tucking in the ends.

"You're right, Rose." The Doctor nods at her. "We do need to talk." She smiles, relieved. The blokes can be so boneheaded sometimes, both too stubborn to take the first step. She's glad she's managed to take it for them.

Jack helps her up. "Let's get you to bed and hooked up to the monitors."

"Yeah. Rather not leave you alone otherwise."

Rose nods tiredly and lets Jack lead her to the bed. She lies down and he covers her with the duvet. He takes a small bottle of water from the trolley and puts it on her bedside table.

The Doctor affixes some blinking patches to her forehead, wrist, and, with a mumbled apology for reaching into her top, right above her collarbone. He starts fumbling with the machine Jack has wheeled next to the bed.

"Signal's coming in fine. I'll just channel it to the screwdr— Dammit, it's still charging." He looks at Jack. "Can you tune your wristcomp into this?"

"Yeah." He starts pressing buttons, and asks in a voice too casual to be real, "Don't suppose you can fix this thing now that we're back here?"

The Doctor flinches. "Not without new parts. Don't have anything that'd fit. But we can look."

Jack nods, not looking up from the wristcomp. What happened to it? Rose decides to ask the Doctor later. The atmosphere is tense enough as it is, and she knows how important the device is to Jack.

There's a beep and Jack holds his wrist out to the Doctor. "Getting clear readings."

"Fantastic. Thank you." He turns to smile at her. "Anything you need, Rose?"

She nods. "I need you two to sort this." The three of them are strongest as a team. And they're not going to be a team anymore with things the way they are between the blokes. She wants them to sort this so they'll be happy, but a small, selfish part of her also wants it for herself.

The Doctor takes her hand and squeezes it gently. "Don't worry." But his eyes show that he does.

*****

Jack throws himself on his bed. The Doctor stands by the door, looking uncomfortable. Jack pats the mattress. "Come on."

"You sure?"

Jack shrugs. "This conversation's going to be uncomfortable enough even with a mattress and blankets."

The Doctor sits on the bed, leaning against the headboard, not quite touching Jack. He hems noncommittally. If only he knew how to start this. Hopefully, Jack will. If Jack puts him on the spot, he might be able to explain his behavior and his feelings. Jack brings that out in him.

"Right," Jack starts, staring at the ceiling. "Out with it, then. What do you need from me? Another apology? Want me to beg?" He turns onto his side and looks at the Doctor. The bitterness in his eyes belies the easy tone. "Beat me, maybe?"

What the bloody hell? The Doctor stares at him, speechless. "I'd never..." Damn, what has the lad been thinking? Has he really done such a piss-poor job of making him believe that he doesn't blame him? He mentally reviews the past few days. Seems like he has. "You don't need to ask my forgiveness."

Jack's voice turns brittle. "No, I don't. I did the right thing. But clearly you're not getting over it. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes so you will. Blame me, punish me, I don't care. I just want to put this behind us."

The Doctor shakes his head. Great. Not only was he not part of the solution to their problem, as far as Jack is concerned, he _is_ the problem. "Was going to apologize to you."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He cocks his head.

The Doctor nods. "You did do the right thing. An' I've been a git about it." He holds Jack's gaze. It's hard, but he wants him to see he's not lying.

Jack looks at him silently. A corner of his mouth is twitching.

"I'm trying, Jack, really I am, it's just..."

"… the way you're wired?" Jack asks.

He nods.

And there it is, right there in Jack's eyes — the understanding and willingness to forgive that make his human lover so fantastic. That allow the Doctor to say things like this.

"It makes me sick when I think of what you did." A frown from Jack, so he pushes on. "I don't blame you. You saved Rose. I just... wish I could forget how." As Jack can. As he already would have if the Doctor's behavior wasn't a constant reminder that all is not right.

After a moment, Jack grins and straddles his thighs. He puts a hand on the Doctor's zip and starts rubbing slow circles. "Wanna see if I can make you forget?"

The Doctor blinks. That wasn't what he'd expected. He hesitates. He wants Jack — damn, so much — but he's not sure he'll be able to relax into this right now.

"C'mon, Doc. Nothing like getting back on the camel to get over a shock."

He nods and forces a grin. "Right you are." He reaches to open his zip.

Jack shakes his head. "Let me."

The Doctor sags back and makes an effort to relax his tense muscles. Jack opens his flies and takes out the Doctor's cock, cradling it gently. The Doctor's completely flaccid — the last few days have taken their toll — but Jack knows how to change that. His skillful fingers play over all the Doctor's most sensitive spots. Jack knows just where to stroke, where to rub, where to put pressure, and that little spot hidden by his foreskin where a light scratch with a fingernail will make the blood flow surge.

It only takes him eighty-one seconds until the Doctor's cock is erect, poking out of his trousers hot and hard. Jack sits back, looking at the Doctor's cock with a wide grin. He teasingly strokes his index finger along the very sensitive base of the head a few times. The Doctor groans. It takes all his self-control not to thrust up. His eyes are fixed on Jack's.

"Isn't this more fun than fretting about the past?" His lover throws him a saucy grin and bends towards his desperately straining cock.

The Doctor can feel that Jack's not much better off — a hard bulge is pressing into his thigh through both their jeans. He stretches out a hand. "Want me to—"

"Later. Let's take care of you first."

The Doctor hisses with pleasure as Jack's lips close around his shaft. His tongue is playing over the head in light, teasing circles. It's wonderful and almost unbearable at the same time.

He watches Jack's dark head bob up and down in his lap, his lips stroking the length of the Doctor's cock, which is getting ever harder, darker, throbbing with lust—

And suddenly the scene shifts. Instead of Jack's bedroom, he sees a dingy back room full of storage crates. Instead of his own cock, he sees Jack's head bobbing up and down on a fat violet G'nudulak dick, his hands cradling a pair of puce balls...

The image is too much to bear. He feels his erection flag. Jack looks up at him, a question in his eyes. A strangled "no" forces its way past the Doctor's throat. He pushes Jack away with a desperate "get off," too nauseous to bear the closeness. The back room turns into their bedroom again just as he watches his erection — his own, dark red with not a hint of violet — wilt like a waterlily in the desert.

*****

Jack crawls backwards, putting the length of the bed between them. The pain is trying to swallow him whole. He wants to protest, to rage that it's unfair, that he needs his lover's touch as much as the Doctor needs his — but the Doctor said _no_ , and there's only one response to that. "Want me to leave?"

"No!" The Doctor looks at him, alarmed. "Never."

The degree of panic in the Doctor's eyes makes Jack realize that the Doctor thought he meant the TARDIS, not this room. Maybe he did. He's not sure. He sighs and sits cross-legged in the corner furthest from the Doctor. There's nothing to say, so he doesn't.

The Doctor looks at him as if he's waiting for something.

"What?" he asks, completely failing to keep the bitterness and raw pain out of his voice.

The Doctor looks down and rubs his neck. "Was hoping you'd... fix this."

" _Me_?" What the hell? Like this is his fault? He was nicely moving things along, trying to get back to normal, when the Doctor decided to treat his lover's attentions like an assault. How dare he demand now—

"Well, not like I can, is it?" The Doctor's staring at his hands, and his voice is barely audible. "Rubbish at domestics, me. Give me a kino-temporal paradox loop any day, but you're the one who knows how to..." He looks up at Jack, shrugging helplessly.

Oh. Okay, that's different. The Doctor's asking for help, not accusing him. He can work with this. _Patience._ Jack sighs and mentally summons up the state of detachment his mediation trainer called "the calm place." _Find the problem. Analyze the problem. Find the central knot and untie it._

He looks at the Doctor. "What just happened?"

The Doctor blinks.

"Not physically. I was there for that." Despite his anger, he can still feel his erection straining inside his jeans. "You said you didn't blame me. You said you wanted to get back to normal. You seemed happy enough when we started. What changed?"

The Doctor bites his lip and looks away.

"Do you want me to fix this or not?"

A nod. "I... saw you with one of them."

"What? When?" God, did the Doctor follow him to the bar?

"Just now." He touches his temple. "In here."

"You... imagined seeing me with another bloke?" Yeah, that's not healthy. Unless one's into cuckolding, which the Doctor is not.

"Have been ever since... Know I shouldn't. Know I'm only driving myself crazy. But I can't get the pictures out of my head."

"That's the problem? Whenever you look at me, you see me with someone else?"

The Doctor's eyes show guilt. "'M sorry. Know it's not fair."

Epiphany strikes. Jack knows just what to do now. At least he hopes so. It's a bit crazy, but their best plans usually are. He jumps off the bed. "Wait here."

"What?"

Jack grins. "You want me to fix this. I know how to fix this. But I'm going to need half an hour to get ready. Stay here."

The Doctor frowns, but nods. "Right."

Jack bends down and firmly kisses his lips. "Try not to obsess while I'm gone."

An awkward laugh. "I'll try."

Jack leaves the room. He checks his wristcomp to make sure Rose is fast asleep, then he sets off to begin his preparations.

*****

The Doctor paces. He's been making mental lists — TARDIS maintenance chores he needs to do, supplies they need to stock up on — sorted into food, tech, and sundry — likely places to acquire them with the smallest possible number of trips, planets he really wants to show Jack and Rose, planets he really needs to keep Jack and Rose away from, planets where there's a bounty on his head, planets where he knows for a fact that there either is one on Jack's or would be within five minutes of him setting foot outside... He's running out of ways to keep from obsessing. It's been thirty-one minutes and twelve seconds.

Of course, when Jack said "half an hour," he meant it in the sloppy human sense. He's probably still "preparing." The Doctor sighs. He trusts Jack — the lad is very good at reading and manipulating people, and right now the Doctor wants to be manipulated back to normality. He just wishes he knew the plan.

The door opens and Jack comes in, looking excited. He's still wearing the same outfit as before — clearly his preparations had nothing to do with personal grooming. He holds a hand out to the Doctor. "Come with me."

He takes the hand, but frowns. "Where to?"

Jack grins. "You'll see."

As they leave Jack's room, the Doctor nods towards his wristcomp. "How's Rose?"

"Sleeping. Good vitals."

He nods.

Jack squeezes his hand. "Now, when we get there, you have to promise me you'll try to just relax and follow my lead, all right?"

"Follow your lead with what?"

Jack shakes his head. "That's the problem exactly." He presses a quick peck to the Doctor's temple without breaking stride. "You think too much. Always analyzing, questioning, _imagining_..."

"Can't help it."

"I know. But for the next hour or so, just try, yeah? Try to focus on the here and now. Stay in the moment with me. You're a Time Lord, I don't need to tell you how vast they are."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. The Vastness of Moments is a very advanced concept of temporal theory. It has to do with potentials, with the way every single moment contains endless possibilities to shape, destroy and create... He wonders how much of the theory Jack truly understands. He'll have to ask him sometime.

But not now. Because clearly, right now they're on a mission. A mission to — hang on...

"We goin' to the zero-g room?" he asks.

Jack grins and turns the final corner that will get them there. "Remember what you promised." He stops outside the door. "Ready?"

Why would the lad think that zero-g sex will come any easier to him than the regular kind? Still, he promised to go with it. He nods, and Jack hits the door opener.

The doors slides back and they both step forward. The room still has gravity — it's hard on the TARDIS to maintain a separate anti-grav field without a physical barrier, so they never switch it on before the door is closed behind them. As the door glides shut, the Doctor looks around. In every direction, he sees himself staring back.

The floor, the walls, the ceilings, and even the handholds and other structures they use to move around when the anti-grav field is on are covered in mirrors. Not just any mirrors, either — Swarolin crystal mirrors, which reflect images perfectly, without the slightest distortion, and are resistant to impact and dirt.

The mirrors are angled cleverly, too — wherever he looks, he can see himself from the front, the back, or the side, just by turning his head a few degrees. Reflections, reflections of reflections, reflections of reflections of reflections, and so on to infinity — and every single one perfectly clear and undistorted. Thank the stars he's not given to vertigo.

A sweet aroma makes him breath in deeply. "Coconut?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Remember that night on Rotico Prime when we rented the jungle suite?"

The Doctor nods, and feels his mouth curve into a smile, as it never fails to do when that memory is brought up. It had been... adventurous. The first time Jack got him to really let go, admit to curiosities and try out experiences he'd barely dared to think about before.

"Smell is the strongest memory trigger there is." Jack pauses and cocks his head. "For humans."

He smiles. "It works pretty well for Time Lords, too."

"Great. I want you to stay in the moment, but I thought it'd help create a mood." He puts his hand on the anti-grav button. "Are you ready?"

"I'm still not sure what—"

"Ready for the zero-g?"

He nods. Jack presses the button. They both push off.

The Doctor has more experience than Jack in zero-g — largely due to the age difference — but Jack has natural grace and elegance. The Doctor can get from A to B — and even to gamma, epsilon and th1r#*b — in zero-g easily enough, but seeing Jack move without the constraints of gravity is like watching a skilled ballet or a swarm of Isolus. He dives and turns in elegant curves, using the structures in the room to push off or pirouette. And seeing him do it in perfect synchronicity with myriad flawless reflections — the Doctor feels heat pulsing in his groin before either of them loses a single piece of clothing.

Speaking of. If this is headed where he's sure it is, clothing will soon be surplus to requirements. He shrugs out of his jacket and starts fumbling with his belt, using gentle movements to avoid drifting into any of the structures.

Jack wraps himself around the Doctor from behind. "Let me worry about that." He gently turns the Doctor's head to the left, where four angled mirrors show four perfect reflections of them — from the front, from behind, from above and from the left. "You just look at us. Whatever you do, keep looking at us."

Ah. So that's the plan. As Jack opens the Doctor's belt and undoes his jeans, then pushes himself down — and the Doctor up — to open the laces on his leather boots, the Doctor watches him and considers. He's not sure this will work. Seeing himself with Jack, smelling the coconut, being forced to concentrate on the here and now because the zero-g requires him to focus on movements that would normally be automatic — yes, all of this might keep him from seeing visions of Jack with G'nudulak customers. But on the other hand--

He feels his arse sharply pinched through his briefs. "Hey! Stay with me. No brooding."

Right. He shakes his head and returns his focus to the reflections. Jack's bundling his jeans and boots into the leather jacket now. Then he grabs the edge of the jumper and yanks downward.

"Oi!" He reflexively throws up his arms.

"Need to make sure you're paying attention." Jack grins. He pushes off a foothold, keeping hold of the jumper, and drifts up, pulling it neatly over the Doctor's head.

The Doctor watches as Jack adds the jumper to the bundle and stuffs his clothes into a hidden compartment in one of the pillars. "Make sure you don't forget where you put it."

"Like you don't have twenty-three identical sets." Jack grins.

The Doctor pushes himself upwards and swats Jack's arse. "Notice you're still fully clothed." He looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow.

Jack grabs his arm and uses it to pull them close together. He gently tips the Doctor's chin to the ceiling — or is that a wall? He's not quite sure anymore. "Don't watch me. Watch us."

The Jack in the reflection now kicks off his own shoes and quickly wraps them in his t-shirt. "Might need help with the jeans," he leers.

The Doctor reaches for Jack's belt, but the unusual perspective in the mirror makes him miss and grab Jack's groin instead. Jack hisses, but it doesn't sound like a complaint. The Doctor sees his own cock twitch. It's growing darker and thicker every second.

Jack strokes a finger along his shaft. The Doctor looks down at his lover. That gets him a sharp pinch. "Don't look at me. Keep looking at _us_!"

The Doctor nods and looks straight ahead. The wall — ceiling, floor, what does it matter — behind Jack shows his own face, focused and a bit anxious, and Jack's back, his jeans slowly sliding down to reveal more and more of his arse.

The Doctor enjoys the view. He likes Jack's arse. His own always seems a bit flat and bony to him, but Jack's is perfectly rounded and with just the right amount of padding. He sees himself grin. It's a good arse.

He gasps as a different sensation floods his system. His eyes in the mirror are dark and wide. Turning his head by a fraction, he can see — through a series of reflections reflecting each other — a side view of himself and Jack. They are both naked now — he's not sure where Jack's clothes disappeared to so quickly, but suspects another hidden cubby hole — and both their penises are proudly erect. Jack has a hand gently wrapped around both their cocks from below, using the leverage to rub them against each other.

The Doctor looks up, getting the bird's eye view so Jack's hand isn't in the way. Jack's cock is slowly gliding along the tip of his own and dancing up and down the shaft. Jack's got a bit of length on him, though the Doctor's got more girth. It makes it feel as if Jack's touching all of him at once. The dusky hue, a few shades darker than the lad's natural skin tone, complements his own dark red in a way he never noticed before. They just seem to... fit.

He wonders if Jack's cock looked so good against any of his custom—

Before he can even finish the thought, there's a slight dip in his erection, and then a sudden sharp pain as Jack digs in a fingernail.

"Oi!" the Doctor protests.

"Stay here with me. Keep your mind on us." Jack's voice is low and husky. He puts his hands on the Doctor's hips and pushes him up — and himself down — until his face is inches from the Doctor's groin. "I'm not going to be able to talk for a bit, so I need you to keep looking at us." His breath feels hot against the Doctors balls. "I want you to _see_ who I'm doing this with." Jack plays his tongue along the Doctor's slit. "Don't let your mind drift. And don't close your eyes."

The Doctor nods, and turns his head to the right. A field of slightly angled mirrors presents him with views of him and Jack from above, his right, and Jack's back. The latter is upside-down, but still clear.

He watches himself as Jack slowly swallows him down. At first he looks tense, but when Jack's lips tighten on his base, his face goes slack, and when Jack starts sucking — blimey, does his grin always look that goofy when Jack blows him? Do his ears always turn that shade of red?

He lets his gaze wander to Jack's reflection — focused expression, mouth moving around the Doctor's cock with relaxed ease while his hands anchor them to each other. So beautiful. Why would anyone so beautiful want a silly, big-eared, big-nosed—

An eye tooth digs into his foreskin a bit too hard for comfort. He yelps and looks down. Jack rolls his eyes and pointedly looks at the mirror.

The Doctor looks back at their reflection — docked together, Jack's focus so completely on him, as if nothing else existed in the universe. He sees himself shiver — strange, he doesn't feel cold. He looks straight ahead, where a mirror shows the scene from his back — all he can see of Jack there are his hands on his hips and his legs reaching out past the Doctor's feet.

His feet, which, he realizes now that he sees it, are curling and uncurling with pleasure. He stills them with an effort.

Without meaning to, he starts thrusting. He looks down, startled, and sees Jack winking up at him, taking the movement easily. Looking back to the mirror, he sees his own arse tense. He's about to—

Jack pulls away, shoves himself upwards, and swallows the Doctor's frustrated groan in a greedy kiss. "Not yet," he whispers, his teeth teasing the edge of the Doctor's ear. "I want you to come inside me."

"Your mouth is inside you," the Doctor growls.

Jack laughs and pokes the ticklish spot below his navel, making him squirm. "Let's do this slowly. It'll be worth it." He stretches to reach the nearest handhold and looks around. "D'you happen to know which direction is normally the floor?"

The Doctor rolls his eyes. "Where the bottom of the door is."

Jack chuckles unabashedly. "Knew I fell in love with a genius." He counts the pillars and pulls himself sideways — though normally that would be down. "Follow me."

The Doctor wants to make a biting comment, but his cock seems to be following Jack of its own accord, and he has no choice but to tag along.

They arrive at a beam with two handholds. Jack pulls open a drawer and produces a small tube. He opens it and carefully spreads a creamy paste on the Doctor's cock, keeping his touch maddeningly light.

The Doctor tries to keep his voice steady. "Not Brenusian nut oil this — time?" The last word turns into a squeal when Jack circles the base of his head.

"Wanted something with more viscosity for zero-g. Don't want loose drops hovering all over the room."

The scent hits the Doctor and shoots straight to his cock. He can't quite describe it, but it's rich and musky and wonderful, and the soft cream spread all over his straining cock feels so good he could probably come then and there if he as much as bumped Jack's leg.

Jack grins. "Like it?"

"What is it?" he asks through clenched teeth. Only Jack's arm on his shoulder prevents him from floating off, too overwhelmed to worry about body control.

"Well, in a word — it's me." Jack leers.

The Doctor understands. "You made a synthetic version of your own pheromones, mixed it with medical lubricant."

"Eau de Jack." He winks. "You like?"

The Doctor just nods. Any attempt to form words might end in more embarrassing squeaks.

Jack turns around and grabs two handholds, his back to the Doctor. "What I've put on you is plenty. Let's get to it." The tightness in his voice betrays his own urgency.

The Doctor makes a sound of protest. "Not like this. I want to see you face-to-face."

Jack shakes his head. "This is better. Look ahead."

The Doctor does — and gasps. From their position, he can see the two of them from all sides, but best of all, from the front. He bends forward and puts his chin on Jack's shoulder, leaning their faces together. And there they are, in the mirror, their eyes locked on each other, and so, so close.

He puts a hand on Jack's arse and starts massaging gently, teasing his opening with a finger.

"I'm good," Jack growls, but the Doctor shakes his head.

"Said it yourself. Let's do this slowly." He kisses Jack's jaw, never taking his eyes of their reflection. "Want to savor this."

Jack grins. "Just so you know — when you're inside me, I'm letting go of the handholds."

Drifting in mid-air, held by nothing but their joined bodies. Suddenly savoring the prep doesn't seem quite as important anymore. He moves his finger inside Jack a few times, adds a second with a bit more haste than most partners would enjoy, and is of course rewarded with an appreciative moan from Jack. In the mirror, he sees Jack's cock strain for the ceiling — technically the floor — and when he puts both hands on Jack's hips and starts slowly pushing inside him, Jack cock twitches as if he's about to come just from that.

The moment the Doctor's balls touch his arse, Jack lets go, pushing them off with a bit of a twirl. They're slowly turning in the center of the room, joined together, and wherever the Doctor looks, he sees himself and Jack. No one else.

"This won't take long," he mumbles into Jack's ear.

"Y'think?" Jack gasps.

A few thrusts into the warmth and softness that is Jack, and he's right at the brink, holding himself back by sheer force of will. He pulls out half-way, reaches around Jack, wraps one hand around his lover's cock and the other arm around his hips. One more thrust and a few deft strokes are all it takes — they both come, cheeks pressed together, the mirrors reflecting thousands of identical expressions of rapture.

Jack and the Doctor. And no one else.

*****

Rose wakes up slowly, feeling truly rested for the first time since before the potato museum. She stretches luxuriously and glances at all the monitors next to her bed. She has no idea how to read them, but nothing looks mauve, so she's probably fine.

She gets up to use the bathroom. She's brushing her teeth when there's a frantic knock on the door. "Rose?" the Doctor's worried voice shouts. "You all right?"

"Yesh!" she yells "But don' come in." She spits and hurriedly pulls on her bathrobe. "All right," she shouts.

The door opens and the Doctor slips in, followed by a chuckling Jack. "Told you she'd just walked out of range, Doc."

"Yeah, yeah. Right clever, you are." He looks at her sheepishly. "You life signal suddenly cut out." He gestures at Jack's wrist, which, Rose notes with a smile, is wrapped tightly around his waist. "Just wanted to be sure you're okay."

Rose nods, then cracks up as she sees Jack mouthing "mother hen" over the Doctor's shoulder.

The Doctor's hand lands on Jack's arse with smack. "I heard that."

"No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't." He grins. "But don't go mouthing stuff if I can see you in the mirror, either."

For some reason, both blokes' eyes seem to soften at the word "mirror," and their bodies sag against each other.

Rose smiles. "I see you talked."

Jack grins. "There was... _some_ talking."

The tips of the Doctor's ears turn pink. "Jack..." he says warningly.

Jack is opening his mouth to say something that would no doubt earn him another smack, but Rose cuts him off. "No details. Please. As long as you've dealt with it."

Jack chuckles. "You could say we dealt with the... gravity of the situation, yes."

The Doctor rolls his eyes. "So, what do you want to do today?" he asks, in his cheerful "Let's change the topic right now" voice.

"Well... if you'll let me finish getting ready," Rose says, pointedly looking at her robe and the bathroom door, "I was hoping we could go and buy some of that hair stimulant Jack was talking about. And maybe some hats."

They exchange a dubious glance. "Sure you're up to that, hon?" Jack asks.

She nods.

The Doctor shakes his head. "Really, Rose, I'd rather you spent today in bed. Or on the sofa. We could watch films."

Rose looks at her bare feet. "But... the sooner I start using the stimulant, the sooner it'll start working, right?" God, she hates that she's still so self-conscious about her silly hair.

Jack nods. "How about the Doctor and I go and buy it right now, while you're getting ready?" He turns to the Doctor. "You land us on the Kashmere Plaza anywhen after the 50th century, and I duck into a shop and pick some up? Can be back before breakfast."

The Doctor nods. "All right. You take your time, Rose. Go to the screening room when you're ready, we'll bring toast and tea."

Later that day, leaning in the corner of the sofa with a blanket, her scalp tingling pleasantly from the stimulant, Rose watches the blokes curled up together more tightly than a pair of socks. The Doctor's grumbling about "Jack's cuddling needs," of course — but every time Jack scoots away to grab a snack or adjust her blanket, he makes very sure to pull him close again as soon as he's done.

She grins and returns her attention to the screen. Jack swore that this Shakespeare interpretation from his century would blow her mind. It has — mostly because she didn't expect so many water buffaloes. But she does agree with the title. _All's Well that Ends Well_.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt: Our heroes are caught in a situation where the Doctor's only choice is to pimp Jack out, or let his companions be killed horribly. He's completely helpless with no aces up his sleeve. I'd like him to spend at least a little time believing Jack is off somewhere having sex with someone else, but whether that really happens is up to you._ Jack _can have all the aces up his sleeve he wants! Happy ending please (of course)._

**Author's Note:**

> Museums like the one Jack and Rose went to actually exist.[ Here on Earth.](http://www.kartoffelmuseum.de/museumseite.html)


End file.
